A Forbidden Love
by DavidHayter
Summary: Inuyasha's pushy family is forcing him into an arranged marriage with a girl he's never met. Will this arrangement work out? Will they actually be right for each other? SPOILER: no! Hilarity ensues.


**A Forbidden Love – Chapter 1**

"Good morning, Simon," I said.

"Indeed, sir. The weather does seem to be particularly pleasant."

"I can't agree with you more, Simon. The sun is bright, the sky is free of clouds, birds are singing, all that sort of thing. Which reminds me, Simon, what's today's date? I dare say it has slipped my mind."

"The seventeenth, sir."

"Any mail for me, Simon?"

"Yes, sir. A communiqué has arrived for you from one Rumiko Whittaker, sir."

"Good lord, Simon. You don't mean Aunt Blanche!"

"Precisely, sir."

Ah, Aunt Blanche. As much as I love mother, who is so kind and compassionate, I can't help but cringe at the thought that she has that egocentric monster for a sister. She used to be named Rumiko, but now forces us to call her Blanche Whittaker, wife of St. John Whittaker, a businessman from the West. Bit of a black spot on our family history, really. All ties between her and mother have been officially severed, but that doesn't seem to stop her from coming down once every year to goosestep all over the place, barking orders left and right at the servants and telling us how fortunate we are to have someone like her around to maintain order.

Ecch.

Sesshoumaru leaves the house when she's here, preferring to stay in the woods. Even father doesn't like her; he only allows these visits in order to maintain good relations with St. John. St. John is a great balloon of a man who breathes heavily even from taking a simple tour of the castle, and I get the impression that he considers us to be unclean. He even calls us demons, since he can't pronounce the word 'youkai.' I used to mistake his employment of the phrase 'cute little devil' as another way of calling me cute and mischievous, but now I know that he says exactly what he means. Still, I can't be too critical of the pair, since it was through them that I met Simon.

I suppose that I ought to explain. Simon was introduced, or I should say, _given_ to me when I turned ten. He's been my personal valet ever since and I often wonder how I used to make it through the day without him. Apparently, he had been owned by their son, Phillip, before he died. Rubella, or some such disease, they told me; poor kid. They couldn't bear having Simon around the house because it reminded them of Phillip too much. It's typical of Aunt Blanche, giving me something that causes her grief and pretending that kindness and compassion were her only motives.

Simon came in through the doorway in that odd manner of his, almost as if he were not stepping on the floor, but rather gliding over it. In one hand he was carrying what I could only assume was Aunt Blanche's letter, and in the other he had brought my tea. It's amazing how he can seem to anticipate my every request, even before I ask him. Simon makes remarkable tea. It's always precisely the right temperature, just sweet enough to be pleasing without becoming noxious, and always filled to just under the brim of the cup so it won't spill over. I don't know he makes it or even what spices he uses, but it makes a dashed good start to a day like this one.

After I finished my cup of tea I unfolded the letter and took a glance at it. It appeared to be one of those letters with the body and salutation already printed, so all the sender has to do is fill in the name in the blank. Very impersonal, it left me with a cold impression that she didn't think too much of me. Sure enough, there was my name in the blank, printed in a hurried untidy scrawl. She even spelled my name wrong, too. I don't see what's so hard about spelling 'Inuyasha', but she seems to have a deuce of a time with it. She keeps breaking my name into two words, stressing the fact that I'm part dog youkai by writing the word 'inu' in all capital letters. I guess my ears and fangs unnerve her or something.

The brief scan of the contents revealed that she was making a second trip this year and contained orders to prepare a room for her to stay in. How brazen of her. I know that I'm the one she gets along with best, but that's not saying all too much. I didn't see what all this had to do with me, nor why I was the one who had to fix her a room. I thought about ordering one of the maids to do it, but then I realized that if they did a poor job I'd be the one blamed for it. It's a shame, really. How I'd love to lodge her in the servants' quarters!

I realized that I was making too big of a deal out of nothing. This castle has dozens of spare rooms, and all are kept neat and tidy by the legions of maids we employ. When father has visitors from all over the realm staying for a conference or strategy meeting – to which I'm not allowed, of course – the place more or less resembles a hotel. I would simply pick the room farthest away from myself and leave the rest to the cleaning staff. After all, it's what we paid them for.

Aunt Blanche arrived two weeks later, right when I was getting ready to go out for a walk on the grounds. Damn her impeccably horrid timing. I found my walks in out on the grounds at times to be the only source of peace and solace in my life. Sure, it's not like my life is full of grueling work, like the field hands, but with the free time that comes with being wealthy also come new problems; e.g. my Aunt Blanche. I was opening the door, prepared to get well on my way and out in the cool breezes, and there she was all done up in lace and ruffles and looking like a frilly futon that somebody had stood on its end and crushed in its sides with a war hammer. Her hair was pulled back in some sort of knot that I was unfamiliar with and her face was powdered heavily. It made me want to cough, but I didn't dare. Simon took one look at her and that was the closest I've ever seen the man to being rattled. He handled the situation as smoothly as he could manage, what with bowing and offering to lead her to her quarters, but I distinctly remember seeing his eyebrows shoot straight up and his pupils shrink to half their normal size. Aunt Blanche didn't appear to notice, as she was preoccupied with scrubbing my face with a handkerchief, having decided that I wasn't clean enough to remain in her presence in my current condition. She pushed down too hard when she wiped. It hurt. Had she not been who she was, I should have liked to clout her right on her ugly powdered mug.

Aunt Blanche was pleased enough with her quarters that she held off on brutalizing me for the time being. I was heading back to my room when I caught Sesshoumaru glaring at me. I think he was jealous of me having Simon. It's not as though father neglected to give him a personal servant or any such matter; in fact, Sesshoumaru has run through at least twelve. They would have stayed longer if he didn't love practicing his fighting so much. He tries it on me in between servants, and I'd always wished that for once we'd find one that would tough it out.

It occurred to me that he had no reason to be jealous of me. Sure, I got the incomparable servant and the mother that bothered to stick around, but he got the full Youkai bloodline. I'm only half-youkai and even after sixteen years, I still can't fit in with either humans or Youkai. One would think that sixteen years would be enough time for me to get the hang of it, but alas, it's not to be. I've got the mocking and the ridicule and he has the prestige and honor, not to mention the good looks. It makes me wonder who his mother was, who it was that gave him that slender, delicate, just-on-the-edge-of-feminine frame, his smooth, silky hair that hangs perfectly straight down. Oh God, I'm staring at my half-brother. Gag.

It had always bothered me that Sesshoumaru and I were so close together. I know that as half-brothers were supposed to be all friendly and lovey-dovey and sharing and all that rot. He's a bit too cold and indifferent for my taste in friends, but I don't mind having him around. I simply wish that there were more than a single wall separating our rooms. I can hear every thing he murmurs at night when I'm in my bed, and I really shouldn't like to wake up and find that he'd sent another incompetent valet flying through that wall and into my room. That's the stuff that nightmares are made of, knowing that at any moment you could be struck in the head by an airborne tutor. I'm grateful that he at least has the sense not to use his poison talons.

He ducked back into his room as soon as he realized that I'd spotted him. That was odd. Usually he'd turn it into a staring contest and use it as another excuse to belittle me in front of whoever happened to be present. I shrugged and went into my room only to find another letter, this time from Akira.

Akira is an old chum of mine from back when I went to public school. (That all relates to a strong dislike of private tutors that I've held for quite some time, stemming from an incident involving one hired by Aunt Blanche. I don't want to discuss it now, but if it has any relevance in the future, then I shall endeavor to explain.) Not the most civilized of chaps, but a good and reliable pal nonetheless. It was odd that he'd write me, as relations between us had been a bit frigid once he learned that I was the son of a youkai lord and not a bastard orphan from Kyoto as I'd pretended to be.

Inuyasha, my good man,

What ho! How things w/you? Matters here v. v. bad. Coming down to see you. Emergency! Will arrive in 3 days. Don't bother preparing a room – stay will be brief. Look forward to seeing you.

All the best,

Akira Toriyama

I handed the letter over to Simon. "What do you make of this, Simon?"

"Well sir, it appears that master Toriyama is interested in how things are here and is coming down to see you due to an emergency."

"So it would seem, Simon."

"Yes, sir."

"Well what's to be done?"

"If I may be so bold, sir, I suggest that you take no action, as the letter does not prompt you to do so. In the meantime, we should carry on as usual and simply wait for master Toriyama's arrival"

"Very well, Simon. A sound plan, indeed."

Just then, there was a loud, impatient rap upon the door. Simon went over to answer it. "Lady Whittaker to see you, sir."

Before I had time to properly register the information, Aunt Blanche burst in wearing that hideous outfit of hers. Simon nipped off to attend to the matter of the serving trays I'd left out in the hallway, leaving me alone to confront this monster.

"Ah, Inuyasha. I have finally received the opportunity to converse with you alone. I wish to speak with you about my true intentions in coming here again… -Good Heavens, do you have to surround yourself with so much of the common rabble? I barely get to speak to you!"

"If you're referring to Simon, I rely on him as a loyal counselor and a friend, not like you or even the other members of my own family do. You should realize that these people have souls of their own."

"Alas, poor Inuyasha. Best mind to not allow them to express too much of their 'souls' or they'll end up owning yours as well. …Which brings me to the reason that I am here. Inuyasha, you've never had a girlfriend, have you?"

Now, I say, there are plenty of ways to begin a conversation that are easier for a chap to swallow, but courtesy and thoughtfulness had never before stopped my Aunt Blanche from getting right to the driving point.

"Not exactly," I started clumsily, "but it's not as if I haven't looked around. You know, given the good old nose a whiff about, so to speak. It's not like there weren't some girls that I was interested in, but I just wasn't so sure that they were interested in me as well. I dare say, it would have been an awful mess to have thrown myself at a girl and start pouring out my soul to her only to find that she doesn't know my name and…"

"Inuyasha, you're rambling. Stop being a buffoon."

"Right ho."

"Now, as I was saying. You've never had a girlfriend, a fiancé, or even a crush as far as I know. A bit odd at your age, don't you think?"

"Not exactly. I mean, there are loads of people who-"

"Oh yes you do. You think it's quite odd indeed. You are afraid, and yet you don't know what to do about it… You're terrified that people will take one look at you and be repulsed by your obvious lack of female companionship and that you will die old and alone and be found three weeks later half-eaten by a two-foot pickaninny. Oh, my poor dimwitted young lad, you don't need to worry any longer. I've got a lovely girl set up for you up at Gladshire Acres. I told her all about you and she just can't wait to meet you. Isn't that terrific? Your Aunt Blanche has done it again! Now then, you're expected at Gladshire Acres tomorrow at noon. I'll have you ride down in my personal carriage."

Oh, terrific. Just bloody terrific. It was at this point more than any other that I wished that a great misfortune would fall upon my dear Aunt Blanche, perhaps being struck in the head by another one of Sesshoumaru's airborne tutors. And so when she left, I fell upon Simon in an absolute panic. The man had managed to bail me out before when I'd landed myself, so to speak, in the soup. Throughout a fevered stream of incoherent babbling, I managed to describe to the man more or less what had taken place.

"It does seem most troubling, sir."

"Of course it's troubling, Simon! That's why I need your help! I need to find a way to get out of this, and fast. I've got a creeping suspicion that Aunt Blanche has gotten some poor girl all buttered up with fatheaded ideas about me being some knight in shining armor coming to sweep her off her feet. No doubt she's full of thoughts of engagements, marriage, or worse, Simon: children. She probably believes that I will be one sort of God or another who will protect her from all evils, and will no doubt, upon meeting me, realize that these visions are entirely false and will throw herself into the lake."

"The analysis is quite an astute one, sir. The reality does little to compare to the legend."

"And what's that supposed to mean, Simon?" I inquired haughtily. I was in no mood to be surreptitiously insulted by my own valet.

"Well, sir, a woman expecting to be swept away by a noble young gentleman with brilliant locks and a cavalier smile would no doubt be disillusioned to encounter a boy with long unkempt hair wearing a battered red fire-rat cloak."

Aha, so this was what he was being mopey about. It had come to my attention that he had disapproved of my fire-rat cloak: forgetting to pack it on trips, leaving it unwashed for several days, that sort of thing. I didn't have the time to deal with his brooding over my choices in wardrobe, and so I steered him back onto the subject at hand.

"Well, it doesn't seem that there's much choice for me but to pack up the old trunk and set off for Berlin, or Antarctica, or some other place where she couldn't find us."

"I should not recommend it, sir. I suggest, if I may be so bold, that you go along with Lady Whittaker's plan. Go see this girl she has lined up for you. You never can be quite sure, sir. She may be the one you've been looking for."

"By Jove, you're right, Simon. Now that I think on it, this whole thing recalls something I've read in one of those Western books Aunt Blanche has given me. Something about roses and days passing, are you familiar with the passage, Simon?"

"Would that be the ending verse of 'To Helene' by the poet Ronsard, sir? 'Live it well, I pray you. Today won't come again. Gather up the roses before they fall away?'"

"Precisely, Simon. Well, I must get to bed if I'm to set off before noon tomorrow. Good night, Simon."

"Good night, sir."

"Oh, and Simon…"

"Sir?"

"Before you turn in, send a letter to young Akira telling him to meet me at Gladshire Acres. Whatever his trouble, it can be dealt with there, I'm sure of it."

"As you wish, sir."

**End of Part One**


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